


feel a little rush

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Football | Soccer, Keith and Shiro are Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-01 20:03:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8636269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Wonderful,” Allura claps her hands together. “It’s so nice seeing a father get involved in his son's hobbies.”
  Shiro nods, momentarily blinded by her smile. “Yeah, really—” He pauses, mind replaying what she’d just said. “What was that?”
where allura is a football coach, misunderstandings are had, and shiro is maybe, a teensy tiny bit, in love





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mahwaha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahwaha/gifts).



> i hope you enjoy this, it was really fun to write !!
> 
> note; i am british so i mean 'football' as in 'soccer' (if you're american, idk lmao)

It’s 10am on a Sunday morning and there are a million and one places Shiro would rather be right now.

He huffs, tugging his coat a little tighter around his body in an unsuccessful attempt to try and protect himself from the biting cold, and does his best to ignore the dark clouds looming ominously above, promising a torrent of rain and thunder at any moment.

There are a million and one places Shiro would rather be right now, but number one on his list has to be his _bed_. His nice and warm and cosy and, most importantly, _dry_ bed. But no. _Somebody_ had to take his younger brother to his Sunday morning football practice and that _somebody_ just had to be him. Didn’t it?

He sighs, digging his feet into the squelchy mud beneath him, and tries to refocus his attention on the field in front of him where he can _just_ about make out Keith running up and down the field, kicking a ball between him and the rest of his teammates as he goes.

 _Why does it have to start so early_? Shiro wonders to himself, making sure to carefully follow Keith’s every move on the pitch - lest he wants _another_ car ride home with a sulking 11-year-old in his back seat. Despite the chill settling into his bones and the unmistakable feeling of _damp_ he can feel pooling in the soles of his old trainers, Shiro can’t help the proud grin that tugs at his lips as he watches Keith slide across the field, kicking the ball with remarkable precision into the goal. _He’s good_. As annoying as it is to have to wake up at the crack of dawn on a Sunday (a _Sunday_!) to chauffeur Keith to and from his training session, it’s nice to see him flourish like this.

He momentarily drags his gaze away from the pitch, telling himself that Keith will forgive him for it, and tugs his phone out of his pocket. A frustrated sigh slips from between his pursed lips. There’s still half an hour left. For a minute or two, he entertains the idea of sitting in the car for the remaining thirty minutes to maybe try and sneak a nap in, but then Keith scores another goal and reflexively glances towards where Shiro is standing on the edge of the pitch, mouth stretched into the widest smile Shiro has seen on him in— Well, in a _while_ — and all traitorous thoughts of scurrying away to the warmth of his car quickly disappear from his mind.

To his delight, the next half an hour passes faster than he’d expected. Nothing out of the ordinary happens. Keith scores a few goals. Keith tackles a member of the other team. The tiny brunette on the team with glasses that are too big for her face scores a goal. Keith tackles one of his teammates. The referee, a tall man with the most _absurd_ moustache Shiro has ever seen in his entire life, scolds him. Keith tackles his teammate again. Keith and his teammate roll around in the mud tugging at each others hair for a good minute or two before the referee, blows the whistle and decides to call it a day.

Shiro raises a brow and crosses his arms over his chest as sternly as he can manage as Keith jogs over to him, mouth still split into a shadow of the wide smile from before. “You’re not getting into my car like that.”

“Like what?” Keith says with a shrug only an 11-year-old oblivious to the sheer amount of mud and sweat currently dripping off their body could pull off. He peers at Shiro curiously for a second or two before he shrugs and plops down onto the ground to kick off his football boots. Shiro sighs, mentally thanks his past self for being wise enough to put down a towel on the backseat in preparation for this very thing, and crouches down to help Keith get out of his boots and into his normal trainers. “ _Oh_ , right,” Keith says suddenly as he kicks off one boot and starts fiddling with the laces on the other. “Coach wants to speak to you.”

Shiro immediately bristles. “Why?”

Keith shrugs, already losing interest in the conversation, gaze drifting towards his teammate he’d tackled earlier. “Something about a match?”

Shiro pushes his fingers together, presses them against the bridge of his nose and lets out a very long, and very deep sigh. “Keith,” he says slowly, trying inject some semblance of authority into his tone of voice. “Please tell me you haven’t been fighting again.”

“I _haven’t_ ,” Keith says quickly, turning back to glare at Shiro like he’s genuinely offended that he would even insinuate that he’s any other than a perfect angel child. “Well—” His gaze slides back towards that kid from before (incidentally, the kid is staring at Keith from across the pitch now, and sticks out his tongue once he and Keith lock eyes), before he turns back to shoot Shiro a sheepish grin. “Not _real_ fighting.”

“ _Keith_.”

“It’s fine,” Keith says as he kicks his last shoe off and wriggles his toes about on the grass for a second or two, before reaching for his trainers. “Anyway. Lance always starts it. It’s basic  _self defense_.”

“ _I do not_ ,” a voice shrieks from across the pitch, and Shiro doesn’t know whether to be impressed at the kids apparent bat-like hearing abilities or a little freaked out. The kid - Lance - starts to march across the pitch, presumably to prove Keith right and start yet another fight, but he’s held back by a woman who, judging by the tired way she shakes her head as she pulls him back towards her, is _more_ than used to his behaviour.

“ _See_ ,” Keith says triumphantly, sniggering openly at Lance being scolded by the woman. “He starts it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shiro mutters, not convinced for one second that his brother - the same brother who swapped the coloured lids for the soy milk and full fat milk and _laughed_ for days when Shiro spent a full our on the toilet - is as innocent as he says he is. “Where’s your coach?” He asks, standing upright, back popping a little as he goes.

Keith reluctantly nods over towards a corner of the pitch where Shiro can just about make-out a small group of adults talking amongst themselves. He tells Keith to wait there and _try_ not to get into any trouble - which turns out to be a complete waste of breath, because the _minute_ Shiro turns away Keith is up and jogging across the pitch where Lance is hovering.

Apology already on the tip of his tongue (‘ _I’m so sorry my brother won’t stop fighting with the other kids but, hey, at least he’s not still in his biting phase - so, if you think about it, this could really be a lot worse_ ’), Shiro makes his way over towards where Keith had directed and hovers awkwardly around the three adults huddled around a bench.

He clears his throat, catching the attention of the referee from before - the one with the ridiculous moustache, which is even more ridiculous up close. But still, ridiculous moustache aside, fixing Shiro with a warm smile as he turns his face him. “Can I help, you?”

“I’m looking for the coach?” Shiro says, peering over at Weird Moustache Man expectantly. “Is that yo—”

“ _That_ —” Another voice joins the mix and all thoughts of an apology, or even something as simple as a basic greeting, _die_ on the tip of Shiro’s tongue. “That would be me.”

Shiro generally isn’t one for exaggerations and dramatics. He’s straight forward and tells it like it is - that’s just how he is, and how he’s always been. So, when he says the woman standing in front of him is nothing short of _beautiful_ , he really, really fuckin’ means it.

She’s tall, only a hair’s breadth shorter than him, with long _white_ hair pulled into a loose ponytail and— _Oh_. Her smile. Not to get all sappy and poetic, but Shiro can’t help but think her smile wouldn’t look out of place among the stars.

“Um—,” she says, smile faltering just a fraction. “Are you alright?”

Shiro realises, with a jolt of embarrassment, that he’s been staring and even worse, judging by the looks Weird Moustache Man and the other person stood next to her (a guy who looks remarkably similar to the kid with the too big glasses) are giving him, he’s been caught. “I’m _fine_ ,” he says quickly, scrambling for something vaguely intelligent to say. “I’m fine.”

“Excellent,” she giggles lightly - and of _course_ her laugh would be just as mesmerising as everything else about her, wouldn’t it?. “Did you need help with something?”

“Oh. Yeah. I did.”

She blinks at him expectantly and Shiro wonders if it would be too much to ask the ground to open him up and swallow him whole. The guy who Shiro suspects is somehow related to the kid with the too big glasses sniggers, while Weird Moustache Man shakes his head pityingly at him.

Trying to shake off some of his nerves and prove that he is, in fact, a functional human being who can have a conversation with a pretty girl without making a giant fool of himself, Shiro nods to where Keith is stood. He’s with Lance again. They’re not fighting, but neither of them look particularly happy which is– which is _something_ , he supposes. “I’m Keith’s b—”

“Oh, _Keith_ ,” she claps her hands together, her smile widening even further. “I’ve been hoping to have a chat with you for a while now. Allura,” she sticks her hand out and waits patiently for Shiro to cotton on that he’s supposed to shake it.

“Shiro,” he says quickly, avoiding all eye contact with the now openly laughing guy stood next to Allura and Weird Moustache Man. “And, um, why does that fill me with dread?”

Allura laughs again, and Shiro commits the sound of it to memory, wondering if he could make it his alarm clock or something and– No. _Too much, Shiro. Too much_. “It’s nothing bad, I promise. Keith is a _wonderful_ player.”

“Yeah. Even when he is taking down his own teammates,” the other guy says cheerfully, not looking or sounding at all as concerned about Keith’s behaviour on the pitch as Shiro thinks he probably should be. “He’s got a real good kick, you know?” Shiro winces, wondering how many times he’s been on the receiving ends of one of those kicks. “If football doesn’t work out for him, you should see how he does with karate.”

“Don’t give him any ideas, Matt,” Allura says with a snicker, rolling her eyes just a little. “As difficult as he can be sometimes, Keith _is_ one of our best players, and I’d like it to stay that way.” She turns back to Shiro, the full force of her smile directed solely at him once again. “This is Matt, my assistant coach, and Coran, our referee. Now,” she takes a step closer to Shiro, until she’s close enough that he can smell a hint her perfume. “What I wanted to talk to you about—”

“Whatever he did,” Shiro says quickly, instinctively taking a step backwards. “I’m sorry, and I’ll talk to him. And, if it’s about that Lance kid - Keith _swears_ it’s not serious, and I know he can be a little much sometimes, but it _does_ just look like they’re having fun so—”

Keith and Lance take that moment to _sprint_ past them, shrieking each others names.

“See,” Shiro says weakly, watching as Keith lunges for the back of Lance’s shirt, only missing him by an inch or two. “ _Fun_.”

“They _are_ a rambunctious pair, aren’t they?” Coran muses, following as Keith and Lance continue to chase each other around the pitch, hurling insults back and forth. “Lots of energy. If only we could focus on getting them to work a little better together on the pitch, they’d be an unstoppable force.”

“Yes, well, Keith and Lance’s _unusual_ friendship aside,” Allura says firmly, dragging her gaze away from the two fighting children. “That isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“It...isn’t?”

“No, not at all. We’re having a match next weekend, nothing too serious, just a friendly with another under 13s league nearby, and I would _love_ if you’d attend.”

Shiro feels the blush creeping up the side of his neck. “ _Me_?”

“Of course,” Allura says, nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll need as many supporters as we can muster up, it’s good for the kids morale.”

“Oh,” Shiro nods. _Duh_. “Right. Yeah. Of course. I’ll be there.”

“ _Wonderful_ ,” Allura claps her hands together. “It’s _so_ nice seeing a father get involved in his son's hobbies.”

Shiro nods, momentarily blinded by her smile. “Yeah, really—” He pauses, mind replaying what she’d just said. “ _What was that_?”

"Oh  _my_ ," Allura gasps, apparently oblivious to the look of horror and disbelief that is currently flitting across Shiro's features at the assertion that  _he_ is Keith's father.  _Him_. He's twenty-two years old for God's sake. "I'm so sorry Shiro, but I'm going to have to run."

"But I'm no—"

"If you have any questions about the match next week, please ask Matt or Coran," Allura says brightly, giving them all a quick wave before she begins jogging across the pitch, towards the row of cars still parked a few yards away from it. 

"You know," Coran says thoughtfully, leaning forwards to peer at Shiro like a scientist inspecting a particularly fascinating specimen. "You look rather young to be a father."

At that, Matt splutters with laughter, clutching dramatically at his sides as he wipes away imaginary tears. And Shiro? 

Shiro  _groans_.

* * *

It would be easy just not to turn up. To let his mother or father take Keith to his match and stand amongst the other parents cheering their kids on at stupid o'clock on a Sunday morning (seriously, why do these things start so early? Shiro is determined to find out). Yet he finds himself bundling a still sleepy Keith into the car that morning, double-checking he has everything he needs from his kit, and driving to the park where the match is being held.

He tries to tell himself, as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes, that he's doing it because he's a good brother. A  _great_ brother. An  _excellent_ brother. The best brother that ever lived. But—

"Why do you smell funny?" Keith asks through a yawn, wrinkling his nose up slightly as he leans to the side to sniff at Shiro. "You smell like granddad."

"You're imagining it," Shiro says, shoving Keith away as they walk across the park to the area Matt had told him the match would be held at.

"I'm not," Keith insists, trying to duck underneath Shiro's now outstretched arm that's keeping away to try and get another whiff. "You smell  _exactly_ like granddad."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Shiro lies, increasing his strides so Keith has to jog to keep up with him. "None at all." Because he  _definitely_ didn't grab the first bottle of cologne he could find and practically  _drown_ himself in it, only realising after the thick sickly-scented mist had cleared that he'd accidentally sprayed himself with the cologne his granddad had gotten him for Christmas about two years ago. And even if he  _did_ do that, he  _definitely_ didn't do it in some misguided attempt to try and impress Allura. Definitely not.

"Well, it's gross," Keith says dismissively, still staring at Shiro through narrowed eyes. "Whatever it is."

Shiro ignores him, because Keith is  _11-years-old_ and knows nothing about love and romance and wooing people. Not that he knows much more about it all either - his dating experience is painfully limited - but  _still_ , he's still fairly certain he knows more than an 11-year-old. He doesn't smell bad. It's a little strong, sure, but it's not  _bad._ Is it? _Oh God,_ now he's paranoid.

By the time they get to the section of the park designated for the match, Allura, Matt and Coran are already setting up, and Keith's teammates have begun to trickle in. Keith immediately makes a beeline for a suspiciously Lance shaped person sat stretching in the middle of the pitch and Shiro, after a moments deliberation, heads towards Allura.

As silly as it sounds, he's been practicing his speech all week. It's going to go something like this: ' _Hi Allura, fancy seeing you here_ —

Wait. No. Of course she'd be there, she's the coach.  _Damn it_. He needs a new plan.  _ASAP_.

" _Shiro_!"

 _Shit_.

Allura sounds genuinely happy to see him, which is ridiculous because they've only met once and it was a very brief conversation so  _really_ , Allura shouldn't be smiling at him like that - like he's some long lost friend and she's so excited to see him. And yet she is, and Shiro can't help but smile back.

"It's so good to see you," she says, tossing a ball between her hands as she approaches him. "I wasn't sure if you'd come."

"No. Yeah, of course I'd come," Shiro says hurriedly, trying to figure out what vibes he'd given off that would imply he  _wouldn't_ come. "I said I would, didn't I?"

"I know, I know," Allura laughs, and ducks her head almost apologetically. "But I'm sure you're very busy."

"Well, um," Shiro inches forwards. Can she smell the cologne? Is it working? Is it  _wooing_ her like the bottle promised? Or is she as unimpressed as Keith was? "I always try and make time for Keith, you know?"

"That is just  _beautiful_ ," Allura sighs, cocking her head to the side, her lips curving upwards into a soft smile. "Keith really is lucky to have you."

This is where Shiro should probably say something along the lines of ' _yeah, he is, I'm a great big brother_ ' and put to rest this whole misunderstanding, but someone - Coran, he thinks - blows a whistle and Allura's attention is, once again, diverted.

"We're about to start," Allura says, eyes twinkling with excitement, already jogging backwards to go and meet with her team. "Go and sit with Matt, Shiro!"

 _No big deal_ , Shiro thinks to himself as he shuffles over towards the bench where Matt is sat,  _I'll tell her after the match_.

The match itself is a lot more interesting than Shiro had expected it to be. Allura is a good coach - an  _excellent_ coach, actually. She knows the in's and out's of her team like they're an extension of herself, effortlessly calling out orders and words of encouragement as she watches the game intently from the sidelines. There's a firm edge to her voice when she calls for Lance to ' _pay more attention to his surroundings_ ' when he collides with Pidge (Matt's younger sister) for the third time, but it's also soft and understanding when, at half-time, the kids group around her sweating and breathing heavily, eagerly gulping down the bottles of water Shiro and Matt hand out.

"You're all doing great," she says brightly, crouching down onto her haunches. They're losing by five points, so Shiro isn't entirely sure how that can be considered 'great', but he doesn't miss the way the children seem to stand up a little straighter at the praise. "I think we can still win this. Keith?"

" _Mghmhm_?" Keith hums, mouth obstructed by the bottle of water he's feverishly glugging down.

"Remember what we worked on last week, with your passes?"

Keith nods. "Make them shorter?"

"Exactly," Allura grins and Keith seems to stand a little taller. "You're passing too wide at the moment and giving the other team plenty of time to intercept. You're not a one man army, remember that."

"Got it coach."

"And Lance," Allura turns to him. " _Excellent_ defending, you've really improved on last week. But remember to keep an eye on the rest of your team. You don't need to do showy slide tackles at every chance, understood?"

Lance nods, giving her a mock salute, and Allura turns to the next kid. She does this with all of them, tells them what they were good at and then gently gives them a push in the right direction, and it's  _weird_ , but by the end of the five minute break Shiro is feeling oddly inspired, like he'd been one of the recipients of her pep-talk. He even joins in with the group high-five before they all run back out onto the pitch again.

Shiro's not sure if it's luck or if Allura's words actually have an affect on them, but the improvement in the second half of the game is clear as day for everyone to see. They still lose, but it's only by the one point, and Shiro finds himself cheering as loudly as anyone when Keith scores the final goal of the match.

"You look like you enjoyed that," Allura says. The match is over, Keith and Lance are running ahead, bickering about something that sounds a lot like what team is the best team of Pokémon Go, and Shiro is helping Allura carry some of the equipment back to her car. "Keith played a lot better than usual, I think it was because you were there."

" _Nah_ ," Shiro says honestly. "It was you. Your little pep-talk. I've never seen him listen to anyone like that.  _I_ can barely make him listen to me sometimes. You're— Um. You're really good with him. With all of them," he adds quickly.

Allura shrugs, cheeks turning subtlety darker - a tell tale sign of a blush - as she ducks her head slightly. "They're all very talented children, you just have to get it out of them somehow. Um," she pauses, stopping beside a small blue car. Shiro peeks through the window and smothers a small snort of laughter at the five cat bobbleheads - each a different colour - sat on her dashboard. "Please don't feel pressured but, if you'd like, we're always looking for parent volunteers?"

"Paren—"

"Just little things," Allura continues on, speaking faster and staring determinedly at the ground for some reason. "Like maybe driving the kids to matches sometimes, helping us set-up, bringing snacks and water. Things like that."

"I'd love to," Shiro says, surprising himself with his honesty. Because he really  _would_ love to. It's fun, funner than he'd expected, and even having to wake up while it's still dark outside to get to the park in time didn't manage to squash his enjoyment. 

"Really?" Allura finally meet his gaze, eyes brighter than before. "That is  _fantastic_ Shiro, really." She reaches forward and places a hand against his forearm - just for a second, just long enough to give him a light squeeze. "I really appreciate it. And I know the kids will too."

"It's—" Shiro licks his lips, trying to calm his beating heart as Allura pulls away and begins fumbling around in her pockets for he car keys. "It's no problem. Really, it'll be great."

" _Great_ ," Allura says, beaming up at him as she sticks the equipment into the back of the car before climbing into the front seat. "So— So, I'll see you next week? Back at the park we train at?"

"I'll be there," Shiro promises, waving her goodbye as she puts the car into drive and pulls away.

It's only when he's jogging over to Lance and Keith - they're wrestling with each other, Lance with a fistful of grass only inches away from Keith's face - does Shiro realise that, once again, he'd forgotten to correct her.

 _Fuck_.

* * *

Telling someone that you  _don't_ have a child and are, in fact, that child's older brother instead is, for some reason, much harder than it sounds.

Turning up once a week at Keith's training sessions, and occasional matches, to help Allura, Matt and Coran out quickly becomes part of Shiro's routine. He learns the names of all Keith's teammates, commits their strengths and weaknesses to memory, knows which ones like an orange slice for a snack and which ones prefer a tub of grapes. They start calling him  _Coach Shiro_ , which  _does_ have a nice ring to it, and start grinning up at  _him_ with that same look of admiration he sees them shining on Allura.

It's fun and he genuinely enjoys it, and if he gets to spend a little more time with Allura each week then so be it.

They're friends now.  _Real_ friends. Friends who have swapped phone numbers and actually talk outside their weekly football sessions. Friends who go out to eat (admittedly, Matt and Coran are always there too), or go to the cinema, or, on more than one occasion, sit on the roof of Allura's car way after the session has finished, talking about everything they possibly can.

They talk about everything from how Allura got into coaching football (' _my dad was really big fan of it and he got me hooked early on and...here I am_ ') to their favourite movies (' _I adore anything Disney_ ') yet the topic of Shiro being Keith's  _father_ never seems to come up. 

Shiro supposes  _he_ could just bring it up one day and laugh it all off like it's no big deal, but every time he tries to say something his tongue seems to feel heavy in his mouth and the words just don't flow like they're supposed to. 

Matt, who Shiro has also developed a surprisingly strong friendship with, finds the whole thing hilarious. 

"Just tell her, man," Matt says one afternoon. They're walking around the pitch, picking up cones to pack away after another session. "It's not hard."

And maybe it's not  _hard_ exactly, but it is pretty awkward, so Shiro just—  _Leaves it_. Tries to push it out of his mind and pretend like it's not a big deal and that it'll resolve itself one day, and will end up being one of those things people look back and laugh on twenty years later: ' _Haha, remember when you thought Keith was my son_?' Just like that.

* * *

"Do you like Allura?"

" _What_?" Shiro asks. It's early, earlier than usual because Matt is on holiday, and Coran is visiting family, so Shiro  _chivalrously_ volunteered to help Allura set up for the training session. He blinks down at Keith, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Do I like Allura?"

Keith nods.

"Yeah?" Shiro frowns, not understanding the question. "We're friends. Do you— Do you  _not_ like her?"

"No, I like her," Keith says, glancing up at Shiro, his face pinched in concentration. "But I mean, do you  _like_ her?"

Even Shiro, still sleep addled and drowsy, doesn't miss the emphasis on the word ' _like_ '. "Oh."

" _Yeah_ ," Keith says with a grin, apparently happy that Shiro has finally understood him. "So. Do you?"

"I— I mean—" Shiro fumbles for the right words, because discussing his  _love life_ with his 11-year-old brother first thing on a Sunday morning  _really_ wasn't something he had planned for. " _Why_ are you asking?"

"Lance says that you like her," Keith says simply, like it's absolutely no big deal. "And I said you don't, but then he said you get this look on your face whenever you see her and that's the look people on TV get whenever they're about to kiss or have sex so—"

" _Stop_ ," Shiro says abruptly, covering his ears with his hands as he stomps away. "I don't want to hear you say that word ever again— How— How do you even  _know_ that word?"

"School," Keith says with a shrug. "But do you?"

Shiro whimpers quietly, because how did his life come to this? Walking through a park at 7am on a Sunday while his 11-year-old brother reveals he and his friend-slash-enemy have been discussing his love life amongst themselves.  _How_? "We're  _friends_ ," he says firmly. "Just friends."

"Oh," Keith says, sounding a little confused. "That's a shame."

"And why's that?"

"Because Lance said Allura gets the same face whenever she looks at you. So I thought—"

" _Enough_ ," Shiro says loudly as they come to the clearing where Allura is already setting up. "You and Lance need to stop gossiping."

" _I'm_ not gossiping," Keith says, wrinkling his nose in annoyance. "It's just Lance. But he talks really loudly so you can't help but hear him sometimes. And sometimes he says things that are true. But only sometimes. And only _very_ rarely."

Shiro's lips twitch in amusement. He still doesn't quite understand whatever this weird rivalry Keith and Lance have going on and he's not entirely sure they understand either. "Like what."

"Like," Keith says slowly, pointedly nodding his head towards Allura. "Allura likes you. Things like that."

And Shiro really,  _really_ shouldn't let the word of two 11-year-olds get him excited like this. He really,  _really, really_ shouldn't. But, as he watches Allura jog over to them, face split into that star-shine grin, Shiro can't help but want to believe they  _might_ be right.

* * *

"I'm gonna do it."

"You'll have to be a little more specific than that," Matt murmurs, watching as the kids run laps up and down the pitch with Allura. "What're you gonna do? Build the first time machine? Run a marathon? Order pizza - if you are ordering pizza, I want some."

"I'm gonna ask her out," Shiro says, feeling a grin creep up on him as he catches Allura's eye for a moment. "Right now."

"You say that every week," Matt snorts, rolling his eyes as he drops down onto the bench with Shiro. "Literally, man. I should start recording you. You're starting to sound like a broken record."

"Not  _every_ week," Shiro says defensively.

"You're right," Matt agrees. "Just most weeks."

"Shut up," Shiro mumbles, shoving him off the bench and onto the floor. "You're supposed to be moral support. You're not supposed to laugh."

"Why can't I be both?" Matt snickers, dodging another shove from Shiro. He swivels around slightly so he can face him better from his spot on the floor. "Are you  _really_ going to do it this time? Or am I gonna be in for another month of this  _pining_."

"Yeah," Shiro says determinedly, meeting Allura gaze once again. They hold it for a few seconds this time, before Allura ducks her head and goes back to jogging with the kids. "Definitely."

By the time the session is over, Shiro is thoroughly regretting his decision. Particularly because Matt has decided to be  _helpful_ and somehow managed to usher the children away to the far end of the field, so Shiro and Allura are left alone.

 _Sneaky_ , Shiro thinks, glaring at Matt as he ushers a confused Keith towards the other end of the pitch.

"Are you alright, Shiro?" Allura asks curiously, thin brows knit together into middle in genuine concern. "You look  _strange_."

Shiro grimaces. Because 'strange' is definitely what he was going for here. Not mysteriously handsome, definitely  _strange_.

"I'm fine," he says, running a hand through his hair.  _It's now or never_. "I just— I wanted to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"Do you," Shiro says nervously, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down. "Do you want to get a drink?"

Allura frowns. "Coffee? Now?"

"No," Shiro shakes his head. "I mean like, a drink,  _drink_."

"How is coffee not a real dri—  _Oh_ ," Allura's eyes widen. "Oh. Shiro. I—" She swallows and looks around nervously. "I like you, I  _do_. I really do."

"Ah," Shiro feels something plummet in his chest, because he knows where this is going, can feel it in his bones. "It's fine. Don't worry—"

"I just think it wouldn't be very professional."

Shiro blinks. That— That wasn't what he'd been expecting to hear. "Professional?"

Allura nods sadly. "If we  _dated_. I know I'm not a teacher in the strictest sense of the word, but I still think of them as my students, and, well, teachers don't date their students parents, do they?"

Oh.

 _Oh_.

"I'm  _not_ ," Shiro blurts out, hoping his face isn't as warm as he thinks it is. "I'm not his dad."

"You're—"

"Keith," Shiro clarifies, like he could possibly be talking about anyone else. "I'm not his dad. He's not my son. I'm  _twenty-two_ , Allura.  _Christ_. How could I have an 11-year-old son?"

There's a long pause that seems to stretch out for an eternity, before Allura  _laughs_. She throws her head back, some of the long white wisps falling loose from her bun to frame her face, and flat out  _laughs_. " _How could you_ ," she manages to get out between giggles, wiping at her eyes. "How could you  _let me think he was your son for so long_?"

Shiro shrugs, lips twitching upwards into a grin of his own. "I  _tried_ to tell you the first time you said it but," he shrugs again. "It never came up?"

"I did wonder," Allura says, still chuckling quietly to herself. "About how young you looked, but I thought— Well. I didn't think it was any of my business."

"And you didn't think it was weird that Keith calls me Shiro and not dad?"

Allura throws her hands in the air defensively and shrugs. "Who am I to judge another persons parenting style?"

"So," Shiro says hopefully, inching a little closer to her. "Do you?"

Allura steps closer, eyes shining with mischief. "Do I _what_ , Shiro?"

"Do you want to go for a drink with me?"

"Shiro?" Allura says breathlessly, "Are you asking me out on a date?"

Shiro grins, tentatively reaching out to pull Allura closer still. "Are you going to say yes?"

She hums for a moment or two, before she stands up on her tip-toes and presses a quick, barely there, kiss against Shiro's lips, before pulling away. "Pick me up at eight, will you?"

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'crush' by yuna ft usher!


End file.
